My Partners Angel
by Vampire121208
Summary: Bones and Booth work through some problems....angsty in beginning but will eventually become a B
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Please read and enjoy. This one is a little more dramatic than my others, but don't worry, im sure it will get lighter as the chapters progress, depending if you guys like it :D**

**Dis.: Don't own bones….yet I do own this weird little piece of torture that just POPPED out when I got home this morning…**

The dank room smelled like urine and sickness. A young woman sat strapped to a strait back chair, visible rawness on her arms where she had unsuccessfully tried to free herself from her rope confines. Her clothes soiled and torn stank of torture. Savage hair hung in greasy tendrils around her face, immobilized strands sticking to her forehead with a coat of sweat. Her thin lips were chapped and bloody, while bruises the size of baseballs adorned her porcelain skin, now a sickly yellow.

A fire in her stomach, roaring and howling, would cease to quiet. She had not been feed for three days, she estimated, and only then had it been a slice of stale bread.

The feeling of sand in her throat made it harder for her to breathe every minute. Her gasping breaths disturbed the eerily still silence of the room, big enough only to hold her chair and a moldy mattress.

Head hanging dejectedly to the side, she moaned softly as she shifted her leg. She felt the fire in her stomach finally quiet to a whisper, as the boiling sensation in her ankle roared like a mighty lion. She winced, remembering exactly what her captors had done to hurt her so. She remembered every word, every threat on her life and on her partners as well.

She had the option of telling them all she knew, spilling her secrets that she had sworn to keep. But she knew she would rather die than allow her captors the pride of breaking her. Of smashing her will power, killing her quickly without much fight on her side.

No. This strong woman, bruised and battered in her small closet of a cell, refused her captors success.

She did not cry when they hit her, only softly swore the words she had often heard her partner say. She challenged them to bring it on, staying silent as they listed for her, in graphic detail, all they would do if she did not comply.

Silence.

That had warranted another beating.

She had learned this from her closest friend. A friend she was beginning to become afraid she would never see again. Many times in the past she had begun to ask him about his experiences being tortured, being so alone and sore that you don't think you'll ever live to take the next breath. But he would always get this look in his eyes, like pain was revisiting him. She had known to stop badgering him for facts, and let him explain to her what his life was like before he donned the badge and official suit and tie of the government.

She understood now why his normally jovial outlook had been taken over by painful memories of the past. Before, she had assumed that these were recollections that would always be with him, but would fade away eventually.

Even if she did escape from this "hell" she was in, she would never ever forget the agony she suffered. The lack of food, the lack of water, the lack of faith of being rescued she was beginning to realize she had.

Every time her captors hit her, their grimy hands on her, she saw her partners face. She saw her core of strength. She saw him. He would stand behind them, staring at her eyes as her captors beat and abused her. She knew he was not real, knew that he was brought on by the cocktail of drugs her captors had dosed her full of. Yet she was comforted by , as he would say, his "angelic" presence.

But her perseverance was running out. Her focus thoughts of home and her comfortable life were being soiled hourly by the vial captors.

She heard the door open, creaking slowly. If she had the concentration, she would have recalled that it sounded like a cheesy Halloween sound effect, played as children ask for candy on a dark cold night. But she didn't have the concentration or time to think at all.

A rough and blistered hand came down on her face, leaving a stinging mark in its place. The gruff man swore, his voice low and gravely. She shivered as she repressed the urge to tell him off. He hit her again, this time sucker punching her in the abdomen. Her body coiled over itself as much as it could, the ropes cutting into her sides as she keeled. She winced in anger at her captor, ironically thankful only one had returned to "talk" this time.

"Does the hot Doctor have anything to say?" He hissed, and she smelled him lighting a cigarette.

Silence.

She stared ahead, focusing her eyes on the doorknob behind the disgusting waste of man in front of her. She willed the door to throw itself open, for her partner to come rushing in and beat the living shit out of the son of a bitch in front of her.

But it didn't.

The man before her, dressed in stained jeans and an old plaid shirt, dropped his hand holding his cigarate and placed the orange end on her eposed knee cap.

The burn was nothing knew. Yet she winced, as her old sharp sense of pain returned. Silent still, she heard him curse loudly, then stamped out the rest of the butt.

Her captor was so displeased by her lack of reaction that her growled at her, stalking behind her and forcefully untying her ropes. When this was done, he wrenched her from the seat and tossed her like a rag doll on the moldy and disgusting mattress. Her eyes were blank as she watched him climb atop her, grabbing her hair in one hand, and the belt of her jeans in his other.

She should have screamed.

She should have cried.

She should have hit him and kicked him.

But she didn't. She was so tired, so beaten down, so defeated, that she finally whimpered as he slid her jean zipper down and tugged her jeans to her knees forcefully.

Suddenly her voice returned and she a hissed out "You bastard," as his cool and chapped hand slap her inner thigh. She shivered, but not from excitement like he read.

She slammed her eyes shut, knowing what was coming next. Hearing the sound of shuffling clothing as he adjusted his own clothes, she imagined she was not there. That she was in her own bed, in the arms of someone much less like the man above her now.

"Bitch," he growled, leaning down so that his hot breath, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, was on her ear. "This is gonna be real fun."

**A:N/ Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A: N/ Please enjoy and then review if you can…thanks!**

**Dis.: Don't own Bones!**

A door is the last thing that stands in his way. He' searched for her for two weeks, sleeping no more than an hour a night. He's used all his favors, cussed and yelled at their squints to help him find her, hell, he hasn't eaten a meal sitting down for two weeks.

And in those fourteen agonizing days, he realized something.

A guy doesn't feel this way about his missing partner. Sure, he feels rightfully concerned or ashamed, he feels guilty that his partner is missing and not him, but he doesn't feel like he's dead on his feet. He doesn't feel like his heart isn't beating, like his blood has stopped pumping when a lead turns out to be false. He doesn't. It's as simple as that.

But lovers…

They feel this way. He has known this feeling never before, but he knows now. He knows what it is like missing a piece of yourself, and searching every where to get her back, only to hit a brick wall at every turn. Or in this literal case, a locked closet door.

He doesn't think. He doesn't want to think about what she's been through. He doesn't want to remember his times as a prisoner, his scars that painfully remind every time he's in the shower or changing for work. But he has to, because if he doesn't, he'd sit around fooling himself into thinking she'll walk back through her office door any day, sipping her coffee and berating him on his alpha-male characteristics. He's a first class deceiver.

He's deceived himself to many times to count.

He's fooled himself into not being sore when he wakes up in the morning. He's tricked himself into pretending he doesn't mind his partner talking about her sexual rendezvous' with his co-workers.

All because of those time he was caught, where he saw what hatred truly looked like unbridled in a man's eyes. That is why he knows how to fool his mind and heart at the same time.

Practice.

He knows the feeling of true hunger, the feeling of sitting in your own mess of vomit and feces, not even noticing the smell you're in so much pain.

He can't take it anymore.

Seconds later the door is gone, splinters flying through the air and onto the back of a burly man, lying atop the thin and gaunt frame of the highly temperamental and territorial F.B.I agent's partner.

The agent rushes in, and within two steps, his pistol is at the base of the skull.

He can feel his ranger heart beating again, and after suppressing it for so long, it beats ten times more powerful than ever before.

_Pull…the…trigger…_ it thumps, loud in his ears. All he sees is red, his eyes pulsating as he contemplates adding one more son a bitch to his growing penance list.

But it's her soft cry that brings him back to reality.

"Booth." She chokes, her throat filling with a sob as he rips the man off of her. The bastards exposed, but it looks like it didn't get any farther than skin to skin.

He thanks god he opened that door when he did.

Pinning the man to the side wall, he cuffs him and hands him off to another agent. He'll take care of that bastard in sometime soon. Now is when his Bones needs him.

He kneels beside where she is curled on the soiled mattress. Taking her hand in his, he soothingly brushes her bangs back, cursing inwardly at each bruise he can now see clearly.

"Booth…he was…Booth, please stay with me." She whispers as another wave of shakes rack her body. Her stress is being released, he understands immediately. When he was freed, he had to deal with the shakes for six months strait, until he was finally able to get a handle on them and return to a semi-normal life.

"Shh…Bones. It's all over. It's okay. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." He comforts her, un-strapping his cumbersome bullet-proof fest so he can move more freely. He guides her head to rest on his bent thighs; she sniffles and looks up at him as he strokes her hair once more.

"You're really here?" She questions, reaching out a grimy hand to caress his sleeve. He nods, his heart breaking slowly as her eyes comb over his face and a disbelieving frown appears on hers.

"Yes Bones, I'm real. And so are you. I'm gonna get you out of here, and get you home again, okay?" He tells her, smoothing her knotted hair so that it rests behind her ear.

"Thank you." She whispers, before losing consciousness on his knees. Its then he releases that her pants have been crudely yanked down, exposing her snow white thighs to the room of agents.

Ruefully, he replaces her head on the mattress and leans over to slide her jeans back up, buckling them at her hips.

She starts crying again, stress leaking from her body while she sleeps.

He winces, noticing how bruised she is, and is careful not to jostle her as he picks her up and carries her bridal style over the threshold of her cell.

**A: N/ Reviews are magical…please leave me something to believe in other than reality. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A:N/ Thank you to Ptitange99 for re-inspiring me.**

**Dis.: Don't own Bones!**

Various monitors beat in the corner, steady but faint. A woman's body lies hauntingly still on the starch white sheets of the hospital bed. A man, no more than thirty-five, sits beside her. One of his hands is entwined with hers and with his other he prays the rosary. His white collared shirt, stained and dirty, now hangs limply on his muscular frame. His thin black tie is unknotted, hanging like a noose around his neck.

Slowly her eyes flutter open just as he finishes his third Hail Mary. She blinks sleepily casting her glance around the large hospital room. Yawning, she goes to stretch her arms, but feels a weight on her. Turning slightly, in confusion, she takes in the sight of her partner, head bowed over her , mumbling what sounds like one of his prayers.

He is exhausted, and she can easily tell. Under his eyes are purple bags, a tell tale sign of exhaustion. His normally styled hair looks unkempt and tangled, hanging loose over his creased forehead. His shirt is stained with dirt and dark smudges. It is her blood that stains his shirt. She may be an anthropologist, but she has worked in a laboratory long enough to recognize dried blood. She feels her cheeks burn in embarrassment as she looks to the hands beside her. His strong fist encases her thin, dirty, hand.

He hasn't noticed that she is awake yet, so she gently squeezes his fingers and his eyes fly to her face.

"Bones!" he gasps loudly then brings his voice down to a whisper, remembering the present time and location. She chuckles for the first time in days and Booths heart swells with the sound. It is hollow, but at this point, he's take a laugh like Swiss cheese if it meant his Bones was alive.

"How long have I been asleep?" She whispers, her throat still burning. He smiles widely, but it never reaches his eyes. They both know she wasn't "asleep". She was unconscious and Booth unintentionally remembers every word of the Doctor's warnings. They said she might never wake up, depending on internal bleeding.

_But she proved them all wrong, just like I said she would._ He brags to himself.

"About a day, last time I checked." He tells her, running his thumb over their still joined hands. She allows a smile to slip through her lips as she relishes in the sensitive touch. It is the first caress her tired skin has felt in what seems like years. She closes her eyes in relief, reminding to herself that she is safe and nothing will hurt her here. She knows that it will take her weeks and possibly months to recover from the hell she was recently rescued from.

If she believed in any type of faith, she would say that Seeley Booth was her personal guardian. And she knew that if he didn't believe in his faith, he wouldn't be the man she knew now saw sitting beside her sickbed, praying and comforting her.

She allows them to sit in silence with each other for a few moments. She can feel Booth's patient eyes watching her, so she turns and looks at him. His eyes glisten and sparkle in the bright hospital light with un-cried tears. Suddenly, a choke escapes his lips and he slowly brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses each one of her grimy fingers.

"You're alive Temperance," he says, more to himself than the young woman who stares at him, with an understanding voice.

"Booth," she says as her throat fills with mucus and her eyes water. She blinks back the tears, but when she opens her mouth to speak, they defy her, and flow steadily down her cheeks.

" Booth…I….thought I was gonna die…"She chokes out before she gasps for breath. He reflexively reaches to her bedside tray and brings a water cup to her lips.

She gratefully gulps the icy water down, allowing herself to semi-digest everything that just transpired in the past sixty seconds.

It wasn't like this before. In the past it had always been Booth and Bones, one of the few most impressive crime solving duo the American government had to offer. But now, now she didn't know what they were. She see the change in his eyes. Feel it in his affirming touches.

She knew they were partners. She knew they were friends. She knew that Angela always wanted them to be lovers.

Lovers…

_Is this what love feels like? S_he mused.

Having soothed her burning throat , she gently pushed the cup away and whispered a thank you. He looks at her with such intensity that it scares her. Lowering the cup and replacing it to the side table, his eyes never leave hers. She has never seen a man look at her like this.

Crystalline blue eyes are full with tears now, foggy and unclear. She sniffles as he slides his fingertips over her cheek, swiping away the traitor tears which slide slowly down her grimy cheeks.

"Bones, shhh… please it's okay. Shhh… just let it out, Bones its best if you do, I promise." he comforts, his face so close to hers that she can smell his cologne and his shampoo. She can smell his tooth paste, and she licks her lips as she draws in a shaking sob.

They are chapped and dry, and she tastes dried blood on them. She feels him lean back, suddenly aware of how close they had been only milliseconds before.

Clearing his throat, he regains his composure. She doesn't know how close he was, just then, to kissing her senseless. Kissing her until their combined pain of the past few days is a distant nightmare neither would ever have to face alone. But he doesn't. Instead he leans back into the uncomfortable hospital chair, and watches her face cloud with emotion, then clear and harden into her old familiar mask.

As soon as he is sitting back, her entire body misses him. She shivers and he subconsciously brings his hand to rub her arm soothingly, in an attempt to warm her. But at his touch she winces. He retracts his arm, a serious look of concern plastered to his haggard features. Looking into her eyes for permission, he tugs her hospital gown sleeve up slightly, so that her shoulder is exposed. There, on her pale skin, lies a red and raw band of skin.

His stomach clenches and his teeth grind. Swallowing back the bile he feels rising in his throat, he lets the sleeve fall back into place. By now she has turned her face so that it rests against the shoulder facing away from him.

"Bones…I…" he stammers, his whisper is dry and coarse in the silence of the room. Reaching across and placing a bent finger under her chin, she ruefully allows him to turn her head back to him. Her cheeks are wet once more with traitor tears. She wipes her eyes aggressively with the back of her hand as he draws a deep breath.

Suddenly she is lunging forward just as he does, desperate for the physical contact that only a kiss could bring. She needs to be reminded that she isn't dead and he needs to be reminded of all that is beautiful in the world.

Each meeting in the middle, the two craving lips make contact and dance together. He fights the urge to climb atop her then and there, and ravish her deflated body until she would walk with the renewed vigor of a reborn woman.

But he didn't, for as soon as their kiss began, a dry cough from the doorway separated them.

** A:N/ Please leave a review and I hope you enjoyed this…more to come :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A:N/ Thanks for all the great reviews! I know you all hope you know who's gonna show up and interrupt our love birds, but I totally pulled the carpet out from underneath you all! Bwhahah! Enjoy and please if it's not too much, review!**

**Dis.: Don't own Bones.**

When he was a kid, Dr. Sweets loved puzzles. He loved sitting in his basement room for hours, solving and resolving. When he grew into a teenager, he decided that he wanted a career which challenged him like a puzzle. When it came time to pick a major in college, he picked psychology. The human mind and emotions are undiscovered puzzles, and for a guy like Lance Sweets, that was perfection.

He had been working at the Hoover building for almost 3 months when he first saw the young partners. His first genuine observance had been in the F.B.I break room. His office had run out of creamer, so he had snuck upstairs and tried to lift a bottle from that fridge.

Note to self: Never try and steal something in an F.B.I building.

As he neared the almost empty break room, he saw the two partners sitting at one of the few tables. The man had his arm thrown around the back of the woman's chair, in what Sweets identified as a subconscious stance of possession. The woman sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup, speaking animatedly to the man. Watching the man's face scowl, than shift into a slight smile, nudging the woman with his knee Sweets deduced that the two must be involved in some sort of out-of-work relationship.

No partner smiles at their partner like that.

He briskly walked into the room, clearing his throat, trying to continue observing the pair as he slyly reached into the fridge and clutched the Coffee Mate. As he made it to the door, he made mental note to review the files on the two agents. They were an interesting counter-occurrence to the usual F.B.I partners he worked with. Reaching the threshold of the door, his foot on one side, the man from the pair seemed snapped out of his trance with the woman as he called out to Sweets.

"Hey kid, did you get lost with your field trip or something?"

Sweets rolled his eyes. He knew he was young looking, and he knew that he had the muscular build of a fifteen year old, but did everyone have to always dwell on it? The man had multiple doctorates and had already been engaged once. He wasn't as "kid" like as everyone thought.

"Booth, that's exactly what I'm talking about! That was a prime example of your need to prove that you are virile alpha-male. Apologize to the boy, he is obviously is visiting his father or someone. Though, he shouldn't be drinking coffee at such a young age. It will reduce the calcium in his bones, rendering his height unable to increase. And adding creamer will to nothing to increase it." The woman explained as Sweets wheeled around, cocking his head to one side as he took in the pair once more.

This lady was no F.B.I agent.

"See that kid? The bone Doctor says you should put the creamer back and just back out of the room slowly." Antagonized the male, who Sweets ascertained was called "Booth".

"Booth, I never said that. I was merely explaining the potential dangers that lie with a young boy drinking coffee at such a formative age…" She challenged, her tone changing from one of slight relaxation to defense.

Oh these two were beyond doubt not the usual F.B.I pair.

"Okay, okay Bones. I just don't want a kid stealing our creamer is all." The man whispered in a hushed tone to the woman.

The two were back to their reclusive world, where only one another other existed. Sweets was entirely too intrigued by the pair. He could have chosen then to scamper out of the room like a scared Bunny rabbit with his Coffee Mate, but instead chose to introduce himself.

Clearing his throat he moved towards the table where the two were still bickering. Both were unintentionally close to one another, their faces mere inches from the other. Sweets found himself secretly wishing the two would kiss in front of him so that all his suspicions could be confirmed. But when they finally looked away from one another and took in the young Doctor, the woman rolled her eyes and the man did the same. Both shot quick glances at the other before the woman opened her mouth.

"Can we help you?" She snipped, her tone much different. Whatever the two had been discussing before was evidently very interesting.

"Yea, do you need help finding the bathroom or something?" Booth growled, sipping his own coffee before looking up to see the identification badge clipped to Sweets jacket. Once again he nudged the woman with his knee and motioned with his eyebrows to the badge.

"You work here?" The woman scoffed, subconsciously looking to the man at her right. He at the same time looked to her and the two shared a small and intimate smile before returning their suspicious attention to the young Doctor.

"Yes, my name is Dr. Lance Sweets. I work on floor seventeen. Nice to meet you Agent's…" He told them, placing his hand out to shake.

"I am Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is Dr. Temperance Brennan." Booth told the young man, smiling as he said Brennan's name. The three shook hands across the table.

Then it dawned on him.

This was the set of partners that he had been assigned to work with soon. The infamous Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan. The partners that had one of the best case records in the agency, the partners about whom his secretary gossiped.

The Booth who arrested Brennan's father.

Wow. He was in for quite the sessions with these two.

Just then, Booth's cell phone buzzed and he retrieved it from his pocket. As he listened, he drained the rest of his coffee while Brennan did the same. Clipping his phone shut, he nodded to Brennan and the two began cleaning up.

"Listen Sweets, sorry to cut this short but Bones and I gotta get going. You know the deal, bodies and murders to catch. The usual." Booth explained as he stood and helped Brennan into her thin coat.

"Of course I understand Agent Booth. Good luck." Sweets wished as the two partners rushed from the room.

And he didn't pretend to ignore the free hand that Booth placed on the small of his partner's back, even when the office was clear.

Standing still as stone, Dr. Lance Sweets once more observed his two most interesting patients. The man is young but aged by experience and the woman is younger but more complex. They have no idea that he has been standing in the hospital doorway for the past fifteen minutes.

He watches her wake. He watches her laugh. He watches them smile. He watches them cry. He watches them kiss.

He listens to their whispered names as tears fall and love is understood.

Desperate for one another, the kiss between the two is powerful and moving. Not rushed or panicky, not hiding or secretive.

Clearing his throat so that the two separate, looking abashed and embarrassed as they recognize the doctor.

"May I come in?" Sweets questions, fiddling with his cell phone in his pocket. He so badly wants to text Angela and tell her the good news. But this is the partners news, not his.

"Dr. Sweets," Brennan greets, always the one with the formalities. Her cheeks, through the dirt and grime are tinged with pink. Booth has now moved from his chair to lean against the side of her hospital bed. He clutches her hand, a goofy smile plastered to his face as sad eyes observe her.

"Dr. Brennan, welcome back." Sweets greets the pair, suddenly uncomfortable by the intimacy of the moment. He should have just waited, come back tomorrow when the two weren't finally breaking through four years of unrequited love.

"What do you want Sweets?" Whispers Booth, who is to occupied with petting Brennan's grungy hair than looking up to greet the young doctor.

"I came by to see if you wanted to go home Agent Booth. I came to offer to stay with Dr. Brennan if you wanted to go home and change or something. But now I see that tearing you two apart is like single handedly defeating Gathaer." Sweets answers, smiling at the Doctor as she leans her head back against the pillow and closes her eyes.

"Who the hell is Gathaer?" Booth questions, a smile tugging at his lips.

"He is the level one demon in Dangers and Death, Agent Booth." Sweets answers, completely serious.

"Ahh I see. I don't really find the time to play arcade games anymore Sweets." Booth teases, brushing back a strand of hair from Brennan's face with his free hand. The other still holds hers.

"Oh." Sweets sighs, suddenly aware of how childish his last remark is. He had been working so hard on "adult-ing" it up. Caroline would have been proud, save for the last three minutes.

"Listen Sweets, I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm gonna stick around. In fact, I know I'm gonna stick around." Booth says smiling down at Brennan. That wasn't meant for Sweets at all, and he can tell.

"Of course. Goodnight Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth." He says quietly, backing out the room.

Once he is in the hallway, he chuckles lightly.

He didn't even tell Booth the Dangers and Death is a Wii game.

It's just too cruel to make someone feel old when they've just found true love.

Seriously, who goes to _arcades_ anymore?

**A:N/ Well? Review please!**


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